Can't Get You Out of My Head
by icewaterdrive
Summary: A quick Faberry college fic.


**Can't Get You Out Of My Head**

**A/N**

**I think I'm doing a series of quick one-offs where Quinn's at Yale and Rachel's in NYADA. Actually this is only the second, so I don't think that's really technically a series. Totally AU. Like I've even watched Glee since season 2?**

**I**_** do **_**know what's been happening, due to the delightful company of one of my readers and the media and have watched some episodes but they lost me at Finchel 4ever.**

**YMMV. I find it always does.**

**This ficlet has a song in it. As you know, if you put a url on FF, it says eff you. So. Youtube?**

**/watch?v=IFx3WX4DES0**

* * *

Claire O'Donnell was a film student at NYADA. A hopeful writer/director. She'd been roomed with one Rachel Berry. Even after three days, it had been the experience of lifetime. Claire wanted to write and capture the feeling of real life on film but she didn't know any way anyone could capture this person unless it was a documentary. No one would believe it as fiction.

Rachel talked in paragraphs. Rachel always said twenty words when five would do. Rachel was always polysyllabic. Rachel had plans. Rachel was driven. Rachel was adorable but seemed slightly insane. Claire was fascinated.

It took those three days before Rachel presented herself like she was at a spelling bee in grade school and said, "I am an only child, Claire, as I have told you and I feel it's incumbent upon me to tell you that I'm already slightly unnerved by sharing a space so closely with another individual. That said, I hope that you will tell me if my personal habits are deleterious to your efforts to study—or even to live. I have been thoroughly schooled in the fact that I am an annoying person even if I'm just present and breathing."

Claire found that paragraph delicious. "We're sharing a room, Rachel. It's your room too. Be yourself—minus about two on a scale of ten so I can hear myself think, okay?"

Rachel show smiled. "Perfect! Thank you for that elucidation. But please, again, do tell me if my volume of personality is too high for you. I can assure you it will never be too low."

"Will do."

The next night, they were sitting in their room and Claire said, "I've showed you a few of my short films. How about singing for me?

Rachel whispered as if the room were bugged, "We're not allowed to do that in the dorm."

"What?"

"Be unnecessarily loud."

Claire shrugged, "I don't care. They can't kick us out. They can only tell us to knock it off. C'mon. Be a rebel."

Claire could immediately see the idea of that pleased Rachel. "I really shouldn't. I project."

"It won't hurt them, Rachel. Annoy them? Maybe. For what? Three minutes? Give it both guns. They'll live."

"Both guns?"

"Sure. Show me whatcha got."

"Do you have a preference for song? I have an extensive repertoire of show tunes."

Claire really couldn't believe the person in front of her. "Your choice."

"Okay. I'll give you my go to song since I was four!"

Claire successfully stifled a laugh.

Rachel proceeded to blow Claire's mind and ears off with Don't Rain on My Parade.

When she'd finished, Claire and Rachel were surprised by the fact that, unlike what they'd thought, they didn't hear people banging on the door to shut up. They could hear, through the dorm walls, fellow students cheering. Rachel beamed at that sound.

Claire was truly flabbergasted. Truly. Such enormous sound out of the little mortal in front of her. She felt a wave of affection wash over her she hadn't expected. For this insanely talented woman she'd just gotten lucky enough to room with. She smiled and said, "Thank you, Rachel. You know you're going to Broadway, don't you?"

Rachel smiled brightly at her. "Of course I do. I've had it all planned out since I was four!"

Claire liked, no—loved—her even more for saying that.

* * *

That was a happy day. Today, Rachel was unhappy. Maybe. She didn't really know. She was drinking water. Keeping hydrated or sad. She didn't know. It had been nearly seven months since Finn went away. Didn't text, didn't call but sent her, to her utter astonishment, a handwritten letter. An almost astoundingly rambling letter saying, eventually, something akin to 'move on' in a way that made her feel like she _should_ move on from someone who didn't even understand how to write move on. It was only two words. How hard was that?

She had moved on, in a way, but hadn't dated because she was trying to grow up and learn something, which she thought was the responsible thing to do. People had break-ups and they hurt. Admittedly, most people didn't have a fiancé break up with you, put you on a train five minutes later and wouldn't talk to you afterward.

The fact she was really hurt but not exactly _maimed_ by the shockingly sudden end of her engagement was strange to her. She'd been heart-broken, of course, but she hadn't felt anything even remotely like despair. Just terrible sadness mixed with wistfulness and an empty place where Finn used to be. A few times she'd tried to work up to despair by thinking of things that _were_ really sad, like veal or world hunger, but she just couldn't gin up the emotion. It puzzled her.

She'd called Quinn about it. Actually, she called her best friend every day, sometimes multiple times per day. After about three months in New York and New Haven, their friendship had become what she termed in her mind 'serious.' She visited Quinn often but Quinn visited her every chance she got. A lot. A lot a lot. So much so that Claire had asked, "Why doesn't she just move in?" So much that Rachel wondered sometimes why some guy hadn't given her a reason not to visit. She'd asked her that once.

Quinn hadn't been a lot of help. She'd only said, "One day you'll figure it out, Rachel, but not unless l shoot an emergency flare out into the sky. It'll come to that, I know."

"What do you mean?"

"Next topic."

They'd moved on. Rachel had learned Quinn could be like that. When she said next topic, she wouldn't budge.

* * *

Her birthday was coming up. Quinn said she'd mailed her present a few days ago and her dads had mailed theirs. She didn't consider it childish to like receiving presents but she thought it might be a little childish that she liked getting anything in the mail with her name on it. Her dads had told her to wait until mail meant bills. She took the point but didn't know whether that would diminish her enthusiasm.

She took her water to her desk and returned to reading news on her laptop. Although she had a tremendously busy schedule, she thought it only right to keep up with the world in order to be well-rounded as a person.

Her computer binged at her. Email!

She immediately opened a note from Quinn.

_Hi you. I have an early b-day present for you. Before I got your main gift, which is winging its way to you even now? No, seriously. I personally paid a pelican to deliver your gift to you. Do you know how much pelicans _charge_ these days? No. You can't _handle_ the truth. I'll just say it's criminal. _

_So there I was about a month ago thinking, what else would Rachel like? Oh wait! I know! A song! Feel free to read snark into that, princess. _

[Rachel scowled]

_Guess what I did? I know a guy who knows a guy in Yale Music and he made me a very, very, very hi-tech karaoke version of a song. Just so you know, it has the backing vocals on but the rest will be 'pitchy, tends toward sharpish' me. Actually. I know I've nailed this to the wall. Whether you'll like it or not? Who knows. Here's the url to a hosting site (url). This video is for you and no one else, okay? _

_I hope you like it and I hope you're having a good day. Strike that. A great day. You should only ever have great days._

_Yours always,_

_Q_

Rachel clicked on the url and the video loaded.

There Quinn was. She'd cut her hair again. But choppy with obvious product that made it vicious, sexy bed head on purpose. She approved. Wearing a white tank top.

Rachel pressed play.

She knew that people said something existed like eye-shagging. Or eye-fucking. She'd heard the term and thought maybe Noah did something like that. He wanted to have sex with her but it was a little coy, which she liked. Finn looked at her longingly but it was always only I. Want. To. Have. Sex. In the months following their break-up, she'd understood that.

This was different. Quinn was singing and utterly eye-fucking her. With her eyes and mouth. Rachel had had songs sung _at_ her but never had a performance just for her and Quinn didn't move at all. She just sang into the camera.

La la la  
La la la la la  
La la la  
La la la la la

I just can't get you out of my head  
Girl your loving is all I think about  
I just can't get you out of my head  
Girl it's more than I dare to think about

La la la  
La la la la la

I just can't get you out of my head  
Girl your loving is all I think about  
I just can't get you out of my head  
Girl it's more than I dare to think about

Every night  
Every day  
Just to be there in your arms

Won't you stay  
Won't you lay  
Stay forever and ever and ever and ever

[Quinn's mouth and eyes. Her breathy voice. Quinn was right. She was nailing it and Rachel right down to where she was suddenly uncomfortably seated in her chair.]

La la la  
La la la la la  
La la la  
La la la la la

I just can't get you out of my head  
Girl your loving is all I think about  
I just can't get you out of my head  
Girl it's more than I dare to think about

Quinn looked desperately into the camera and a tear slid down her face.

There's a dark secret in me  
Don't leave me locked in your heart

Set me free  
Feel the need in me  
Set me free  
Stay forever and ever and ever and ever

La la la  
La la la la la  
La la la  
La la la la la

I just can't get you out of my head  
I just can't get you out of my head  
I just can't get you out of my head...

The music ended and Quinn popped a key on her computer.

"Anyway. Like it or not? Happy birthday, Rachel. I love you."

It felt like a splash of cold water.

* * *

She dialed Quinn, who immediately picked up.

"I am FURIOUS with you."

Quinn felt her heart sink to her stomach. "So you got my present?"

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Quinn felt something very close to despair. "What exactly?"

"We've been _dating_ for months! And you never told me!? What's_ wrong _with you?"

Quinn's shoulders fell in relief and she smiled. "I tried."

"Not hard enough, Fabray. You've been dating me for months and have slept in my bed and have never even once kissed me. I am frankly disappointed in you."

"I'm sorry."

"Not good enough. When you come here next Saturday, you'll kiss me or you'll sleep on the floor."

"Win-win. Okay."

"Stop it. I am not in the right frame of mind to say this but you suck for keeping me out of the loop. I'm not hanging up on you. I just can't say more than this now. Call me later."

"Understood."

They hung up.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Claire entered their dorm room and found Rachel holding her phone with a dreamy shocked look on her face.

"What's up?"

"I'm dating Quinn."

"And? You've been dating Quinn since I've known you."

"No. I just found out today."

Claire stared at her. Rachel truly did look shocked.

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

_"No. Seriously?"_

Rachel nodded.

"O-_kay_. I'm heading out right now to get some serious beer."

"Thank you. I think that would be a reasonable restorative for this situation."

Claire stifled the laugh she had to every day. She loved her roommate.

* * *

**A/N: BTW? If you're musical, you understand this song is quite complex. Rhythmically, it's a dream. I could go on and on about it. The reason it sounds pop but slightly tonally sad, and it really does, is because the chords aren't obvious at all. Perfect pop song. On a personal note, if RM let Dianna Agron sing this song, which is perfectly in her range and even to a wall, he'd sort of own me. Which would amount, admittedly, to about six cents. Just sayin'. **


End file.
